Culture of Hate
by Cadmium Red Angel
Summary: Ginger is a senior at Lucky High, and she's fed up with the cruelty and cattiness of her peers. She struggles to protect Carl from bullying, fight for the rights of her friends and loved ones, and to come to terms with a certain aspect of her identity. And ultimately, she's desperate to figure out how to find her own happiness in life.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ginger Foutley sat at her kitchen table, stirring her oatmeal and staring out the window. It was a chill autumn day, with a brisk wind tossing the red and gold leaves through the air and clouds heavy with rain looming overhead. She liked everything about autumn, really. It always made her feel nostalgic, poetic. In fact, at the moment she was remembering her time in middle school. She was already a senior in high school, less than a year away from graduating. Some people say time flies, but Ginger felt she'd been waiting forever to get where she was.

High school didn't suck, per se, but she didn't really _like_ it either. She'd become an "artsy" kid, well versed in literature and poetry, an amateur writer, photographer, and painter, and was still active with her band, A Good Excuse. But the type of person that she was didn't really mesh well with the social scene at Lucky High. Everyone was so cliquey, so catty, so dramatic; Ginger was the exact opposite. The way the popular kids acted irritated her so much. It wasn't because they didn't like her. She didn't care about that. It only irritated her because they weren't civil to anyone. A pacifist and peace lover, Ginger hated that there were always fights breaking out at her school, people bullying other kids who couldn't fight back, and the general intolerance of everyone. Some kids seemed to enjoy the drama, but Ginger was sick of it; she couldn't wait to get it behind her.

Sighing, Ginger began to eat her oatmeal slowly. It was bland. Dave, her stepfather, always made really good oatmeal, but he had work early and wasn't able to cook some for her that day. So she had made her own and tried to be content with it. Her mom, Lois, was working too, so it was just her and Carl at the house.

Carl was a freshman at Lucky High and was dealing with the same dilemma as Ginger; he didn't fit in, he didn't care, but he hated the cruelty of his peers. More than once that semester the two had stayed up until the early morning, ranting to each other about all the things they were sick of and wished they could change at school. Openly bisexual, Carl also got hate for his orientation, and Ginger sympathized deeply with him on that. Many of her friends weren't straight, and the treatment some of the kids gave them for it sickened her. Ginger tried to protect him, doing her best to be a good older sister, but he still got plenty of abuse. It was depressing. He had therapy twice a week, and Ginger wondered if it was helping him at all.

Rinsing her bowl out and putting it in the dishwasher, Ginger went upstairs to finish getting ready for school. They had a cleaning lady but Ginger didn't like burdening her too much, even if it was her job. She passed Carl in the hallway, noticing he was still in his pajamas. "Get dressed already, Carl. We have to leave in twenty minutes."

"Bossy, bossy. No worries, dear sister, it only takes me _five_ minutes to get ready." He held up his hand, spreading his fingers and wiggling each one to emphasize his point.

Ginger rolled her eyes and went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, then straightened her short hair, parts of which she'd dyed black a few months ago. The waves were hard to smooth out fully, but she always managed to get her bangs swept to the side like she liked them. Though Ginger didn't really consider herself to be fussy about her appearance, she did tend to be particular with her hair. She envied Carl, in a way. He'd gotten into the grunge style a year or two ago, and didn't concern himself with looking very put together. She only wished she could be that incredibly low maintenance.

She flicked on a bit of eyeliner and then went to get her stuff. She was wearing a long, baggy black sweater that was ridiculously cozy, cutoff tribal print shorts, and black leggings. Grabbing a beanie, her car keys, and her messenger bag, Ginger flicked off the bedroom lights and went down the wooden stairs, one of which creaked loudly. They'd lived in the Gripling house for about a year before Lois and Dave had gotten into old-fashioned architecture and bought a Victorian style house downtown, the oldest area of Sheltered Shrubs. They all liked the house; it had personality. Even if personality meant squeaky steps.

Carl, true to his word, was ready to go, leaning casually against the wall with a smug grin on his face.

Ginger raised her eyebrows at him as she slid into her boots. "All ready?"

"Affirmative."

"Mmk. Let's go then." The two exited the house and walked to Ginger's car, parked in the short driveway. It was a 1950s Beetle in sky blue that had seen a lot over the years, but was still going strong (partially due to a new engine put in when Ginger got it.) Climbing in, she started it and the two set off to school.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Let me pick what to listen to today," Carl said, rustling through his backpack. From one of the pouches he pulled out a portable speaker and his mp3 player. Seeing as the car's radio was shot, that was the only way to listen to music while driving.

"What are you going to put on?" Ginger asked.

"I'm thinking some psychedelic rock. Strawberry Alarm Clock sound good?" Ginger nodded, chewing on her lip as she steered the car. It took a few moments to find the right artist, but then Carl turned on the speaker and a funky melody flooded the car. Ginger spaced out a little, getting into the zone and just driving on autopilot as she let the music flow through her. Her morning drives to school with Carl were always the best times they had together as siblings, because they never argued then. It was just music, good vibes, and quiet companionship.

* * *

With a practiced twist, Ginger opened her locker and shoved her bag inside. The hallway was filled with the din of chattering, and she struggled to hear as Macie, her oldest friend, tried to talk to her over her shoulder. "I don't know what I was thinking, Ginger," she said. "That organic fruit and yogurt-only diet was the worst idea I could possibly have had. The stupid websites I read said it was good for your immune system, but you know how I was out sick the other day? I went to the doctor that day and it turns out I'm allergic to milk."

"Oh man, that must be terrible for you," Ginger said. Shutting her locker, she leaned up against it as she talked. "I knew you always used to get sick when we got milkshakes together at the Dandy Diner. Guess that was from your allergy, huh?"

"You know me, Ginger. I've got a billion allergies, so yeah, it's nothing new. Definitely annoying though. And it definitely was. But don't worry, I don't mind suffering a little if it means getting to do a nostalgic diner run like we used to." She attempted to wink, but ended up blinking because she had terrible coordination. Ginger giggled, causing Macie to blush in embarrassment and adjust her glasses. "Guess I still need to work on my winking skills. Care to walk to class with me?"

"Sure! Just let me grab my books." Quickly she ruffled through her locker, grabbing her things, then the two set off toward the classroom. Macie was one of the coolest people Ginger knew. She admired her individuality, her wittiness, and her intelligence. She was demure but knew how to defend herself, quirky as hell and fiercely independent. It was fantastic. They talked quietly to each other as they walked, discussing their homework assignment and gossiping a bit about how their classmates might have done on it. Rounding a corner, Macie suddenly stopped short.

"Ginger... let's take a different hallway to class. Please."

"What? I don't..." Ginger paused, suddenly understanding. Several cheerleaders were standing in front of the bathroom, talking loudly. That in and of itself wasn't bad, really, but Dodie was with them.

Dodie. She'd once been their best friend and now they almost never talked. When they did, Ginger could feel the awkwardness hanging around them, weighing down on whatever they said like a leaden weight. They hadn't had a big falling out or anything. It was the exact opposite. They had chosen different lifestyles and had grown apart so much that it was almost as if they'd never been friends. Ginger didn't begrudge Dodie for choosing to be a social butterfly, for becoming a cheerleader; the way Ginger saw it, it was part of Dodie's nature as an extrovert to want to be that way, and she was happy that Dodie had gotten the life she always wanted. However, that didn't mean that Ginger really wanted to be a part of it. She almost hated to admit it to herself, but she felt betrayed and inadequate. Dodie was part of the bitchy crowd now; she'd abandoned Ginger and Macie, the "uncool" kids, and found what she apparently thought was much better company. It hurt Ginger. Badly.

From the hunted look in Macie's eyes, Ginger knew she'd taken it even worse. Macie was an unswervingly loyal friend, and it took a lot for her to drop a relationship with someone. Because of that fact, Ginger didn't mind playing along with Macie's slightly over-the-top methods of avoiding interacting with Dodie. It was worth it if it meant avoiding making Macie feel like even more of an outcast.

The two hurriedly retreated around the corner, out of sight of the cheerleaders, and went down the other hallway. If they speedwalked they'd make it to class on time, despite the detour, so they rushed as fast as they could. Nothing more was said on the topic. Nothing needed to be.

* * *

When class got out, Ginger parted ways with her friends to go get a drink of water at the fountain. There she found Carl, who was filling up his My Little Pony flask. "Hey," she said. "What's with the flask?"

"Attractive, isn't it?" he quipped.

"I guess so?"

"I knew you'd think so. You've got impeccable taste."

"Since when did you think that?"

"Since always. I do value your opinion, you know." He grinned, showing his braces.

"Riiiight. Can I get a drink really quick?"

Carl stepped out of the way, gesturing to the fountain. "Drink away, fair damsel." Ginger laughed a little.

At that moment, some guy Ginger didn't recognize walked past the two. He looked at Carl, smirked, and called out, "Hey, faggot."

"Well fuck you too," Carl responded, narrowing his eyes

"Hey!" Ginger was instantly pissed. "What's with that?" she demanded. "What makes you think you have any right to speak to him like that?"

The guy rolled his eyes and continued walking. Ginger called after him, "Don't even think of saying that again!" He didn't give any indication that he cared or even heard. Turning back to Carl, Ginger put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I..."

"It's alright," he said, patting her hand before removing it from his shoulder. "I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it okay!" Ginger realized she was almost yelling and took a deep breath, trying to chill out.

"You're a pacifist. The only thing they'll likely respond to is violence, and that's not exactly your modus operandi."  
"Have you told your teachers?"

He stared at her for a moment. "What makes you think they care, or are even on my side, Ginger?"

"They're... they're supposed to be! It isn't right. You shouldn't be treated like this."

"Life isn't fair."

"It should be."

"But it isn't."

"You can't just lay down and accept it."

A pause. Then, "Sorry, but I have to go to class now." Carl screwed the cap onto his flask and held her gaze for a moment. His eyes betrayed so much pain, but as he walked away he looked more dignified than Ginger had ever seen him. It broke her heart.


End file.
